


Assess the situation and put together a stradegy

by Enid_Black



Series: Nature and Nurture AU [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baby!Black Widow, Baby!Captain America, Crack, Fluff, Gen, I wonder who decided to leave Emma and Oliver unattended for more than 30 seconds..., Tooth Rotting Fluff, baby!avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3817777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enid_Black/pseuds/Enid_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plot bunny!</p><p>Emma and Oliver are Avengers Fans! Emma loves Black Widow and Oliver loves Captain America (because he reminds him of his Papa). They even have mini costumes and props...</p><p>Hydra is going to get its tentacles on Mrs. Hudson cookies. Our Superheroes won't allow that!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assess the situation and put together a stradegy

**Author's Note:**

> Title from here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MTCKgoqwuS4
> 
> And the usual thanks to my Beta NepturnalHarianne, who won't sue me for giving her diabetes :D

“Emma, wait me!!” Oliver wailed from the kitchen. He was trying to put on a blue cowl, with a lowercase “a” on the front, and it was getting stuck to the curls. The blond girl, hair pulled up in a ponytail and dressed in black with a yellow belt and yellow cuffs, went back to the other room and helped her cousin put the thing on, carefully tucking in every loose strand.

“ _Black Widow_ , Cap. I’m Black Widow, try to stick to our codenames, otherwise all the bad guys in town will know who we are.” She said, very, very seriously. Oliver nodded solemnly.

“Roger,” he answered. “What is our mission?” He asked.

“My contacts told me that Mrs H has made cookies.” She started, prompt and proper.

“Mmmh, cookies…” Oliver slurped, spacing out for a second. Clapping her hands in front of his eyes (she had tried to snap her fingers but couldn’t make a sound, so she opted for clapping), Emma regained Oliver’s attention.

“Concentrate, Cap. Our mission is to retrieve the cookies, but the door is defended, a Hydra agent holds Mrs H hostage.” She added, grimly, mimicking quite effectively her father’s expression whenever he talked about work with uncle Sherlock. Oliver’s hands went to his mouth.

“No… we have to save them, ahem, her.” He said, worried. About the cookies, Mrs H was perfectly able to defend herself, usually.

“Yes, we have to. But we have to be very careful.” Emma said, again, serious as heck. “You need to make a plan, Cap.” Oliver nodded and brought his hands, palm against palm, to touch his mouth and nose (his father’s thinking pose).

“I just need to assess the situation, and put together a stradegy…” he started to say.

“Strategy,” Emma corrected him.

“StraTEgy, thanks. What do we know? Who is the enemy?” Ollie asked, sitting on the floor and looking expectantly at Emma. 

“There is a man, he has dark hair and a beard, and he’s very naughty. He’s been sent by S.H.I.E.L.D. to retrieve the cookies, but they don’t know that he is a double agent. He’ll eat all the cookies if we don’t stop him.”

“Ouch, he’ll have a tummy ache if he eats them all.” Ollie said, savvy after his own experience with eating too many cookies. Tummy aches weren’t fun, he had discovered.

“That’s really not the point.” Emma said, trying to get Oliver back on topic. Her cousin was really a genius (unsurprisingly), but tended to get stranded by the slightest idea. “He’s in Mrs H’s house, now! What do we do, Cap?” she urged him. Oliver looked at her with a determined expression and nodded.

“He’s downstairs. We can’t enter in Mrs H’s house and I don’t wanna mess it up, she gets angry with mess. We could make a trap outside of the door… we need rope, plenty of rope!” he exclaimed.

“Keep your voice down!” Emma hissed, “He’ll hear us if you shout our plan.” She added. Oliver clamped his hands on his mouth again and mumbled softly. Rolling her eyes, Emma reached out and took Ollie’s hands from his mouth, “Come again?”.

“I was saying, _Black Widow_ , that we need some sticks to put the rope around and some blocks to keep the sticks, so we can stretch the rope between them and he will trip on it.” Emma beamed at Ollie.

“Cap, that’s brilliant!” Oliver’s skin, what was visible under the cowl at least, pinked at the compliment. The children went to work. Emma found some rope in the mess that was her uncles’ room, Oliver gathered John’s old cane and an umbrella uncle Myc had left there once and took all his letter blocks from the play-box, putting them in a tote bag with a Sesame Street motif. Oliver examined with attention all the things they had gathered and nodded his approval. 

Now, they had to face their worst enemy. 

The stairs.

All the items gathered in front of them, Emma and Oliver, pardon, Black Widow and Captain America observed them with attention. There were seventeen steps, the fifth from above squeaked on the right side and they weren’t carpeted. Ollie looked at them for a few moments, deep in thoughts.

“I know what we can do. We’ll go down on our bums, so we don’t make a noise and we’re able to bring everything. I’ll take the blocks and the cane, is it ok for you to bring the umbrella and the rope?” he asked. Emma nodded. She went first, as stealthy as she could be, avoiding the cracking steps and making it downstairs almost without a hitch. Oliver took a couple of seconds more, the cane almost slipping, but he held on. Luckily his shield was strapped on his back. Once on the ground floor, they creeped at the door. Oliver signalled Emma to open the umbrella, and put it upside down on one side of the door. He took the blocks and filled it with them. He looked around for a second and grinned. Emma followed his gaze and did the same. Both went to the umbrella stand and dragged it as silently as possible on the other side of the door. It was quite heavy, but they were superheroes, they could do it. Oliver stuck the cane in it and Emma started making rounds of rope and knots between the umbrella and the cane, making a trap on the threshold. 

“Perfect.” Oliver declared, whispering to his cousin. “Now, when he comes out and trips, you take the cookies and I’ll tackle him.” He said. Emma shook her head.

“No, it’s better if I keep him down and you take the cookies. You can defend them better with the shield.” She said. Oliver nodded and they hid on each side of the door, behind the makeshift trap. They waited for a couple of minutes and then voices sounded from right behind the door, before it opened. Anderson was the first to step out, plastic cookie container in his hands, and promptly tripped on the ropes. His arms flailed in the air, the cookie container flying high in a parabolic trajectory that was promptly intercepted by Oliver using his shield (a plush backpack) to break the fall and not damage the container (or scatter the cookies on the floor, that would have been a pity). Anderson tried to get his balance back, but just as he was regaining a bit of balance, if still entangled in the ropes, Emma jumped from her corner with a particularly skilled movement that had her hanging on Anderson’s neck, using the speed and force from her jump to get around the man on his back and promptly making him stumble and fall on the floor, barely breaking the impact with his hands. With Emma safely sitting on his back, beaming at a very serious and determined mini Captain America. 

“Da… Agent Coulson, he’s Hydra, he wanted to eat all the cookies by himself!” Oliver promptly shouted upon seeing Sherlock just behind Anderson, a raised eyebrow and a smile threatening the consulting detective’s lips. Behind him, a bewildered Lestrade was less able to keep his face straight and started to suspiciously cough into his sleeve. His eyes got glassy, too. Anderson groaned from the floor, he tried to get up and was swiftly kicked on the side by Emma.

“Stay down, you Hydra scum.” She said, angrily. Anderson decided that it wasn’t worth it and stayed on the floor, opting to call for help.

“Greg, could you take your boyfriend’s spawn _off my back_ , please?” at that, Lestrade lost it and actually giggled. 

“Papa!!” Emma shouted, turning towards the door, “I mean, Thor, You can’t laugh now, _you have to take him, he’s HYDRA_!” Meanwhile, Mrs Hudson had emerged on the door’s threshold with her camera and was shutting photo after photo. John should really see this. Sherlock cleared his voice, maybe trying to conceal a laugh, and crouched on the floor. He looked at the rope and the blocks, now scattered on the floor, with the open umbrella rolling on one side. He noticed the umbrella stand toppled on the floor with John’s old cane in it. 

“Very clever, Captain, the blocks were a good plan. Great work, Black Widow, the knots are perfect and the scheme of the rope is very… trapping.” He said, very seriously, looking each child in the eyes. Both beamed happily. “Although, I must lament your lack of trust in me.” He added and they looked at him quizzically. “Although in his past this man had indeed chose the wrong side, I would not keep his company, nor I would allow him in our den if he still were Hydra’s. He’s been working for Shield for months now, and only kept under wrap because he was working undercover.” He added. Oliver and Emma started to look guiltily at the man. “You couldn’t have known, though, so I won’t defer you to Nick Fury if you help him on his feet, give the cookies back to him and apologise. It’s right, isn’t it Anderson, you won’t get mad…” he said, in a slightly menacing tone. Anderson groaned again from the floor, while Greg’s giggles turned in full laughter.

“I won’t be angry and I won’t tell anything to Fury, just _let me get up_.” He said. Emma scrambled from his back with unsurprising grace and undid a knot that made the rope fell on the floor, no longer binding the man’s feet, then she helped him up. 

“I’m sorry, Philip. We won’t do this again, promise.” She said, looking up at him with a pouty lower lip and big, blue, innocent eyes. He knew perfectly well that the expression was just some ploy to make him topple, her voice was sincere, though, so he accepted the apology. Oliver came forward, then, offering the cookie container to the man. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Philip… We won’t do this again, cross my heart.” He said. Philip Anderson had never in his life received any kind of apology from Sherlock, but now, in less than two minutes, he had been defended by the Sherlock himself and had had sincere apologies (Oliver was almost always sincere, as his father, but less cutting) from the child. He accepted Ollie’s too and then found himself almost falling again when the two children embraced him. No, it wasn’t a tear the one that escaped his eye, no sir, it was the sweat for having tripped, and it was hot and… ooh, who was he kidding, these kids had him wrapped around their little finger.

“It’s ok, kids, just… don’t do that again. Someone could really get hurt.” He told them, squatting on the floor and patting the children on their back.

“He’s right.” Greg’s voice was strange, so he cleared his throat. “He’s right kids, we know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but this kind of game is dangerous. Just try to think, what if it had been Mrs Hudson the first one to get out of the door, she could have seriously injured herself. So don’t do that again, are we clear? We won’t be as lenient next time.” He added, putting up his best “cop voice”.

“Yes, Papa…” Emma said, at the same time Oliver uttered

“Yes, uncle Greg.”, both very subdued.

“Now, let’s put everything to its place and let’s go the Met, shall we?” Sherlock said. Emma and Ollie looked at each other, they loved going to the Met. “No, there’s no case.” He added, and the children were a bit crestfallen, “but there are cookies and a cake. It’s Sally’s birthday.” The cousins beamed again and ran to tidy the floor, Sherlock bringing the objects into their flat and Lestrade following upstairs with both children by hand on the stairs. Emma and Oliver decided not to change into civilian clothes, all their fellows superheroes would be there, so it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Hydra had been defeated and the cookies (and Mrs Hudson) were safe. And they got to tell to their friend that they had been brave and smart!


End file.
